Darker Than Black
by Mahoney-Rae
Summary: The Necros are coming and Riddick finds himself back in the Helion system transporting a new kind of weapon. Meanwhile, Jack is touring the system as a lead guitarist in a band, completely unaware of what the military has in mind for her. Rated T-language
1. Intro: Hello There

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Paint Yourself Brave

Authors note: This story is on a playlist to go with the whole band theme. Hopefully I'll have the first chapter done and edited for you by tomorrow. **Review and tell me what you think so far!**

Intro: Hello There by Cheap Trick

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><p><em>Hello there ladies and gentlemen<br>Hello there ladies and gents  
>Are you ready to rock?<br>Are you ready or not?_

The feedback from the speakers nearly made my ears bleed. My band mates and I wince at the offending sound; Justin quickly turns down the volume. He sends us a sheepish grin from the club's sound booth and I playfully flip him the bird. Sound check begins promptly after everyone finishes setting up.

_Hello there ladies and gentlemen  
>Hello there ladies and gents<br>Are you ready to rock?  
>Are you ready or not?<em>

My real name is Jaclyn Carrie Monroe, but my friends call me Jack. I met Hoover, Graham, Justin and Quinton four years ago on New Mecca after I pulled several "harmless" pranks that landed my ass a year in a juvey hall. Back then, I was Jack B. Badd, still buzz cutting my hair and wearing baggy clothes even though it was beginning to look obvious that I was not a boy.

_Would you like to do a number with me?  
>Would you like to do a number with me?<br>Would you like to?  
>Would you like to?<br>Would you like to do a number with me?_

I had this therapist, Geninen. She was the first person to introduce me to music and after handing me a guitar, we discovered that I was a fucking natural. She said that instead of doing outlandish and destructive stunts to channel my feelings of anger, abandonment and other depressing shit, I should make music. After that, I was glued to the guitar. Learning songs by ear and once I exhausted main stream music, I began improvising. Once Geninen saw an "improvement" in my attitude, she introduced me to Graham, her nephew. The rest, as they say, is history.

_Hello there ladies and gentlemen  
>Hello there ladies and gents<br>Are you ready to rock?  
>Are you ready or not?<em>

We picked up Justin after six months of practicing together. Justin had this transmitter radio that still received signals from Earth and he let us listen to it and learn songs from the late 20, early 21st century. He became our tech guy and rock music expert, even though he'd never picked up an instrument in his life.

__Hello there ladies and gentlemen  
>Hello there ladies and gents<br>Are you ready to rock?  
>Are you ready or not?<em>_

This group of guys, they ground me and distract me from a part of myself that is still waiting. From the part of me that wants to cause a riot and chase a ghost that has long since denied me his company. I took the hint and I started over.

_Would you like to do a number with me?  
>Would you like to do a number with me?<br>Would you like to?  
>Would you like to?<br>Would you like to do a number with me?_

I don't buzz cut my hair anymore, though I don't allow it to grow past my shoulders. I don't wear boy clothes anymore, although I do swipe sweat pants from Quinton every once in a while. I have fully come to grips with my body and my gender, but people still no better than to mess with me. I'm not Jaclyn, the little girl who ran away from home to avoid abuse. I'm not Jack, the boy who dreamed of traveling the universe or Jack, the girl who idolized an ex-convict. I'm not even Kyra, the girl who was self destructively pissed at the world and almost landed her ass in slam. I'm Jack, lead guitarist and backup singer in a band called Paint Yourself Brave. And life has been fucking brilliant.


	2. Dead On Arrival

**M-Rae: Sorry it took so long! I got wrapped up in certain writing decisions with this story and then other issues started popping up...like school.**

**ANYWAY! Hope you enjoy it. Reviews and suggestions are most welcome.**

Disclaimer: I own Paint Yourself Brave and that's it.

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><p>"Are you eating right?" Lajiun asked. Her face suddenly appearing next to Imam's on the video feed. Jack rolled her eyes knowing that the real question Lajiun wanted to ask was if she was still "pure". The woman was never really a mother figure to Jack considering that Jack was still an infidel. But Lajiun still looked after Jack's virtue, wanting the girl to at least be a "good woman", which was the next best thing.<p>

"Yes, I'm eating well." The guitarist replied. Lajiun nodded, satisfied with Jack's answer and disappeared from the screen. Jack's pleasant expression dead paned when she was sure Imam's wife was out of viewing shot. "She's got to be kidding, right? Am I eating right?"

"She is trying, Ja—Kyra. She is still uncomfortable with the way you are." The holy man explained gently. A small smile graced his lips apologetically. Jack sighed, wondering if that woman will ever be okay with the way she was or if Imam will ever remember to stop calling her Kyra. She was done with that phase.

"It's Jack, again, Abu." She corrected him.

"Ah, good, but you have always been Jack to me." It was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever told her in a long time. And the seventeen year old smiled at her legal guardian. In a year she'll be eighteen and legally, Imam will no longer be her father figure. But she doubted that would change anything.

"When are you coming home?" Imam changed the subject. Jack's eyes rolled up, doing the math in her head. For the past year and a half, Paint Yourself Brave had been on a star system tour. Five small gigs, ten or so full blown concerts, they were almost done and would be heading back to New Mecca in a few short months.

"We're heading home now, just two more stops and I should be back before Ziza's birthday." The holy man, nodded, pleased with this information.

"Wonderful! Ziza will be most excited. She misses you a great deal."

"Tell her I miss her the most. She'll get a kick out of that."

"You expect me to lie to my own daughter?"

"Who says I am lying?" Jack smirked, teasing the old man. Imam chuckled knowing that his place in the teenager's heart was not truly being threatened by the sweet six year old.

"Yes, well, it is almost time for prayer, I will see you soon."

"Yeah, see ya later, Abu." Jack cut the video feed and sighed as she stood up to stretch. The tour cruiser didn't have cyro sleep because most of their gigs were on neighboring planets in the Helion system. Leaving her room, Jack went to find the rest of the crew and her band mates. They were most likely in the galley, pulling up inappropriate videos on the main screen.

Arriving at the galley, Jack spotted Alex, the captain of their ship, lounging on the couch and nursing a beer. This could only mean that Geninen had turned him down, yet again. Jack shook her head and walked over to the fridge. She grabbed a beer and plopped down on the couch next to Alex. His eyes didn't stray from their blank stare at the wall. Jack said nothing as she watched the man child with mid amusement. The captain was about thirty years old, yet acted as though he were a love struck teenager. This is part of the reason why they picked him as their captain. Physically, and intellectually, he was a grown man. But when it came to the pleasures in life, he abused them just as much as the next teenager. Granted, he wasn't the most fun to be around when brooding. Cocking her head to the side, Jack studied his face. Alex had the lightest grey eyes she had ever seen, at a quick glance it almost looked as though he were blind. His dirty blonde hair had grown past his ears in a mess of thick curry locks.

"He needs a haircut." Jack thought to herself while continuing to watch the man. Light blond hair stubble out lined his square jaw and formed a small goatee on his chin. "And a shave." She added.

"What's up, Jack?" The soft gruff sound of Alex's voice asked. Jack shrugged and took a sip of her beer.

"Just chillin', where's everyone else?"

"Checking some shut eye before we land in a few hours."

"Awe man, did you guys have a pre landing party without me?" She accused lightly. The captain slowly brought his can up to his lips, smiling slightly.

"Tried to wake you, but you sleep like a bear." He teased. "Haven't heard snoring like that since I lived with my parents."

"When was that, like, a year ago?" Jack countered with a punch in the arm.

"Ow! Violent, much, princess? You sure you don't need more beauty sleep?"

"Suck it up, man-child; what doesn't kill ya makes ya stronger."

Alex chuckled and reached over to ruffle Jack's hair. The girl dodged the hand and got up from the couch. In the back of her mind, Jack drew similarities between Alex and another man. Both were pilots, both were around the same age. Both regarded her as a kid and sometimes, as pain in the ass. But one wasn't likely to walk out on her when she needed him the most. Jack shook her head to clear her thoughts of the man she had been trying for years to forget.

"You should get some shut eye too." Jack advised as she walked away from the couch. Alex raised his beer, acknowledging the suggestion.

Jack wandered back into her room, finding amusement nowhere else on the ship. Putting down her beer on her dresser, she picked up the acoustic guitar in the corner. Jack looped the strap over her head and tuned the guitar as she made her way to her bed. After a few scale and chord exercises, her fingers began forming riffs and chords all their own. Meanwhile, Jack's mind wandered back to the nightmare that was T2, as it usually did when she started messing around on the guitar.

_Lost in the stars,_

_Crash landing in a forgotten system._

_Eleven sole survivors_

_On a desert three sunned prison._

_Little did they know _

_That this planet had a secret…_

To say Riddick was irritated would indicate that the short, sloppy man standing before him didn't deserve a shiv embedded in his skull. But the escape convict prided himself in his self control. Just because some piss drunken ass wipe had a death wish, didn't mean Riddick had to fulfill it.

"What's a matta, pussy?" The drunk slurred, swaying back and forth and almost knocking Riddick's drink over.

Then again, who was Riddick to deny the man his services? Slowly standing up from his seat at the bar, Riddick stared down at the man through his dark goggles. He frowned at the pathetic sap before him, wondering if he should kill him or just scare the living shit out if him. The later would allow him to stay on that backwater, jungle out port a little longer.

"You want something from me, little man?" He asked calmly in a threatening under tone. The drunk struggled against his words, seeming to regret challenging the dark man before him.

"N, n-no." He finally stuttered, backing away from Riddick's imposing presence. Riddick tilted his head ever so slightly, smelling the alcohol and the fear rolling off this man in waves. The beast in him growled in delight, but Riddick quickly squashed any notion of perusing the "challenger". He had to stay clean in order disappear off the radar. The run in with the mercs after T2, ended any chance of immediately avoiding trouble. He was beginning to regret not detonating the ship when he had the chance, eliminating all the mercs who knew he was still alive. Lost in thought, Riddick almost forgot about the shaking intoxicated man standing before him.

"You still here, tiny?" As if released from a death grip, the drunk staggered off to another corner of the bar. Riddick silently sat back on his stool and took a swig of his beer. The escaped convict was beginning to think that his contact wasn't going to show up. It was too bad; Riddick needed the job in order to get off this rock. Just as he was about to leave, a bottle of beer slid its way down the bar. Riddick caught it, not looking up at its original owner.

"You must be Redman." The convict's voice rumbled as he brought the beer to his lips. A quick, inconspicuous sniff, told him that the beer was clean. The bottle completed its journey and Riddick took a swig.

"You must be Victor." The slick confidence in Redman's voice told Riddick that he was dealing with a big shot, but when he turned his head to look at the man, he found Cutter. Automatically, he knew he was not going to like this new job.

"Cutter. I knew I smelled something dead and greasy. What's with the monkey suit?" Riddick growled, setting down his beer. The man known as Cutter chuckled as he took a seat next to his old slam mate.

"Haven't ya heard, Vic? I'm a respectable business man now."

"Respectable my ass. You wouldn't need me if you were respectable."

Cutter smirked, "Aye, that's true, but I'm more respectable than some of these jokers 'round here." The ex-con pointed out. After studying Riddick for a bit, he rubbed his chin, "Somethin's different about ya."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Riddick answered smoothly, but Cutter didn't miss a beat.

"It's a woman."

Riddick snorted, "Hardly."

"Hardly as in it's not a woman, or hardly a woman?" Sharp as ever, Riddick forgot Cutter's uncanny way of reading him like a book. That's how he survived in slam and how he came to become Riddick's escape accomplice. "I didn't peg you as a pedophile."

The comment was received by a shiv to the throat, but the business man didn't flinch. He smirked at the murderer before him, knowing full well his life wasn't in danger. This was just Riddick's way of saying he was insulted. "Calm down mate, just trying to get your full attention. And now that I have it," Cutter gently yet firmly pushed the murderer's blade away from his throat, "I'd like to give you the details of the job."

Riddick grunted and put away the blade. "Something tells me I ain't gonna like it." He mumbled more picking up his beer and taking a sip. The oily black haired man smiled confidently at the convict. Adjusting his shoulders and clearing his throat as if he were starting a presentation, Cutter reached into his jacket. Riddick's muscles tensed, expecting the worst, but his contact either didn't notice or didn't care. The business man slid out an envelope and set it down on the bar between the two men. Riddick eyed it suspiciously, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "I ain't openin' that shit".

"It's the first half of your payment."

"What am I doing exactly?"

"Shipping."

"Illegal?"

"Yes and no."

Riddick nodded. A cover job, he knew them well.

"I have the ship and the cargo already set up. All I need is a pilot I can trust." Cutter said matter of factly as he slapped his hand on the convict's shoulder. Riddick snorted.

"So what am I dealing with, here?" He asked, taking another swig of his beer. Cutter straightened up, looking around them to make sure no one was paying attention. Then he leaned toward Riddick and whispered,

"I don't suppose you've heard of the Ghost Army?"

Riddick chuckled, "No, doesn't seem to ring a bell." Cutter ignored his friend's general disinterest and continued.

"A comet is the only indication that they are coming. They land on planets, destroy the government, army and any means of escape. Once their done sapping up resources, they completely annihilate the whole planet. Last I heard, the Toga system was completely gone and—"

"What does this have to do with me?" Riddick interrupted. Cutter briefly glared at the man. The ex-con wasn't the cleanest of men, but he wasn't rude and he hated rudeness.

"I manufacture weapons, but not in the conventional sense." Cutter reached back into his coat pocket and Riddick watched him, intensely intrigued. The business man lifted out a small vile containing a purplish liquid.

"Drugs."

Cutter nodded, putting the vile back. "My clients wish to be prepared in case this Ghost Army appears in their sky."

"But this stuff isn't exactly legal."

"Not yet. It's still in its experimental stages, but my clients are scared shitless, so they're up for anything."

"And where are your spineless clients?"

"Urma Lunar. It's a research facility in the Helion system."

Riddick's ears rung as the pieces fell into place. The Toga system was only a jump and a week away from the Hellion system. Doing the math in his head, Riddick gauged that he could possibly beat the army by a day or two depending on the cover cargo and the ship. In the back of his mind, he was also calculating how long it would take to find a certain someone and high tail their asses out of there, if he decided to take the time. But even as he sat there, silently arguing to himself, he knew he would end up at least checking up on her. If Imam, was doing his job, he wouldn't have to save anyone's ass.

Cutter watched Riddick quietly, wondering what the big man was thinking about. The thought that he might not take the job crossed his mind, but he immediately dismissed the idea. For as long as he knew Big Evil, he knew the guy wouldn't turn down the job just because he was afraid or it was too dangerous. However, he was aware of Riddick's high sense of self preservation.

"So?" He finally asked, hoping he was right about his old cell mate. The escaped convict looked over at Cutter, and slowly smirked.

"When do I leave?"

"Yesterday."

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><p>Again, thank you for your patients!<p>

Review or shoot me a message with suggestions.


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